Miracles in Davenport
by ringaroundtherollins
Summary: Smackdown is taking place is Des Moines, Iowa, and Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose make the decision to surprise Seth Rollins at home while they're in the state. But will things go as smoothly as they hope? Only in the season of miracles can such a thing be believed. One-shot. Sequel to "What Dreams Are Made Of." Some mild language. Strong friendship/family Shield feels.


**This story came to me through a suggestion from a reader, SittingontheEdge, who pointed out to me that Smackdown is, in fact, in Iowa next week. Aka where Seth Rollins lives. I absolutely could not resist writing a third story, a sequel to "Reparations" and "What Dreams Are Made Of", telling of Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose making the decision to surprise him while they're in the state. This has as many feels as one story possibly could, methinks, from warm wintery fluff to angst of heartaches past. I hope you enjoy it. Merry Christmas and happy holidays, my readers!**

* * *

The Boeing 737-800 landed at Des Moines International Airport at 6:22 AM Tuesday morning. Roman Reigns and Dean Ambrose had caught the red-eye to get to Iowa before most of their fellow superstars. Smackdown was live tonight at the Wells Fargo Arena, in a special Christmas program. Dean, attempting sleep on Roman's shoulder, awoke when the plane bumped on the runway. He jerked, sitting up straight.

"Morning," Roman said with a smile.

"Are we there yet?" he asked, mouth distorting in a yawn.

"We are. Just arrived."

The plane was overcrowded with passengers, even a red-eye flight, this close to Christmas. Roman and Dean cradled their championship belts like children as they plodded off the plane with the mob. Those titles hadn't left their sight—or hardly their grasp—in over a week. Roman was as protective of the belt as he would have been of his own child, or Dean.

Iowa was humid and frigid. Dean was shivering even in the lively airport. "Damn midwest.

"Ohio is more midwestern than Iowa is, I'd say," Roman teased him.

"Yeah, and I don't miss it one bit. So where do you rent a car around here? We should get some breakfast before we head over to the arena."

Roman had heard the words but he wasn't listening anymore. His eyes lifted to a large poster of Iowa, welcoming all visitors. Certain cities were marked with big red circles beside their name. Cedar Rapids, Sioux City, Waterloo, their current locale, Des Moines. But one city in particular stood bold among the others to Roman.

Davenport.

It wasn't a new occurrence. It had itched his brain since last night. Only now it was now presenting itself in physical form before his eyes.

A literal sign?

"Roman? Hey, you with me?"

Roman felt Dean's hand on his shoulder, the one not bearing the weight of the World Heavyweight Championship. "Yeah, I'm here," Roman said, but his eyes were affixed to the oversized map.

"What's the matter?"

"Dean, has it occurred to you yet where we are?"

Dean took a moment to answer. Roman couldn't meet his expression, read his eyes. "Yeah? Des Moines."

"Iowa."

"Last I checked, Des Moines was still under Iowan territory, yes."

"Dean."

"Alright, fine," Dean exhaled. "Yes. I thought about it as we were getting on the plane. I didn't want to bring up anything that would make you feel…uncomfortable."

"Uncomfortable?"

"It would be awkward, wouldn't it? I mean, it's been so long…and you guys weren't on the best terms last time you were with him."

"I know…but clearly things have changed since then."

"Yeah? But by how much? I mean, a phone call is one thing, a conversation over FaceTime is nice and all…but…I mean, to _see_ him again. To be in his presence, when knowing the last thought he probably had in his head with you standing in front of him was, 'I might have to destroy this guy to retain my championship.'"

"Are you afraid?"

Airport guests and future passengers pushed past them. They might have been blocking oncoming people traffic, but neither were willing to move from this spot yet.

"A little," Dean admitted. "I'll just say it. I'm scared as hell. I don't know how he'd react, or if he'd even want to see us."

"Something tells me he would. He was the one who called me, remember? He instigated conversation. He reached out to _me_." It was the only thinking keeping Roman from Dean's track of thought. He couldn't stress over how awkward it might have been, how uneasy, if Rollins hadn't made both of those calls. This was no trick. This was sincerity. "And I miss him like hell."

"I do too." Another confession that abated his voice. "I mean, I don't trust he'll Pedigree us both to the floor or anything, but…"

"Dean, if you're worried it would be too weird, we don't have to." Roman wanted to—the longer the notion lived in his mind, the more he yearned for it—but Dean's feelings came before his own.

"No…no, I want to, I just…it's not going to be easy."

"I think it'll be much easier once we actually get there. You'll be happy to see him." Roman knew _he_ would be. His inside were rattling with a buzz. The prospect of seeing his little brother again, _as_ his little brother, not just Seth Rollins, but a man Roman had grown to love so much over the years, protect, train, learn from…miss…

"You're way braver than I am, man."

"I'm just confident."

"And I'm a lunatic. Blow me."

Roman chuckled softly.

"You know, it's like a twenty-minute drive to the arena from here," Dean pointed out.

"I know."

"And Davenport is like…way the hell over there somewhere. We'll be in the car for hours."

Roman's head bobbed. "Mhmm."

"And you don't have a problem with that at all, do you?"

"Not if you don't."

"I…kind of don't. I like road trips. It reminds me of the good old days. When he was a passenger."

"I miss the good old days," Roman said.

"I do too. So…" With a breath in, Dean emitted bravery he swore he didn't have. "Let's go relive one of 'em, huh?"

"Sure. Let's go see Seth."

* * *

Roman was shaking through the entire drive. He gripped the steering wheel of the rental car tight, but that didn't seem to help.

He had a hundred and eighty miles to get used to this idea—or change his mind. But he and Dean had promised to stick this plan out, whether they were edgy or not. Anxiety was inevitable. The boys didn't know what to expect. It was up to Roman to encourage Dean to follow through with this, and vice versa. The closer they got to Davenport, the more Roman wanted to see Seth…and turn around and bail, all at once. Never before had he been such a mess over one guy. Not since the "one guy" stabbed him in the back and left him flat on the mat to join the Authority.

 _No_ , Roman thought. _Don't think about that…remember who he was…who he still could be_ …

"Do you remember that time we were driving from Miami to Houston, and we stopped by that shabby taco joint?" Dean asked from the passenger's seat.

Roman laughed at the disgusting memory. "Oh my God, I do."

"Those beans were green, dude. _Green_! And they even weren't green beans, the vegetable! That was the grossest crap ever!"

"Seth had to lay flat in the backseat for a couple of hours. Poor guy. I remember how much pain he was in."

"That's one road trip I can go without reliving for the rest of my life."

"I concur."

"We did have some good times, though."

"Oh, we did. I remember all the karaoke sessions to the radio. The _good_ restaurants we stumbled across on every drive. Trading off drivers so the other two could actually get some sleep."

"Seth made for a good pillow sometimes. No offense to him, but you were a little more comfortable to rest on. Don't even know why."

Roman laughed. "Thanks."

Dean leaned forward. "Can't go any faster, huh?" He eyed the speedometer.

"Not without getting pulled over. I'm sure cops get _really_ bored out here, and wouldn't hesitate pulling me over if I go a mile over the speed limit."

"Fine, then." He sat back in his seat and sighed.

Roman was grinning. "Getting excited?"

"I am. It helps knowing that Seth was our brother once. He meant something to us. And we meant something to him."

"He meant a lot to us."

"Yeah. It hurt like hell to lose him…"

The conversation was veering to dark matter that Roman wanted to dodge. "What about that time we almost got robbed?"

Dean's face lit up in new amusement. "Oh, God, what an _idiot_. Yeah, try getting away with mugging _three_ WWE superstars, dude. Nice try. I'll never forget the look on his face when you punched it square in."

"Pretty sure I broke his nose."

"Damn shame."

* * *

Roman pulled in front of the house he hadn't seen in years. The memories were giving him a headache and a heartache, a massage of the mind and a whirlwind of emotions, altogether at once.

He parked the car. Dean wasn't speaking. His hand was on the door handle like he wanted to move, but he hadn't unbuckled his seatbelt.

The morning was overcast, white and hazy with a pending snowstorm. Particles of moisture were frozen in the air. Roman stared out at the house. Looked over to Dean, whose eyes were bulging at the painfully familiar site.

"Ready?"

"Yes. No. I—I don't know…" He pressed his fingers to his forehead, eyes falling shut. "You said it would be easier once we actually get here."

"'Here' didn't just mean his house. 'Here' meant _with_ him. Seeing him will make it easier."

"Roman, it's a lot harder than I thought it would be…I'm sorry, I…I don't want this trip to be a waste of time, but…"

Roman put a hand on Dean's trembling knee. "It's okay to be nervous."

"I'm scared as hell!" he cried, then laughed in spite of himself. "Just…it's playing over in my head, what he did, and…I just…"

"It's okay. There's no rush to this, okay?" But Roman agreed with Dean on one point: this trip would _not_ turn out to be a waste. He didn't drive all this way just to turn around without meeting his goal to see Seth.

They sat in the quiet for several minutes. No sound but the heater of the idling car, keeping them somewhat warm.

Dean's hands fell to his lap. He stared out at the house. "Seth, I loved you. I loved you so much. Then I hated you. You stabbed me in the back. You betrayed me. You broke my heart. And that's something I still haven't forgiven you for, to this day." Dean swallowed against a great lump in his throat. "But family doesn't mean 'for now.' Family doesn't mean 'from here to here.' Family is family, and that means forever. That means, no matter what…no matter what you did and how I felt…you're still my brother and I still care about you." He blinked, and salty droplets dribbled down his dimpled cheeks.

Roman squeezed his knee.

Dean touched a finger to his wet eyes. "How the hell are you so calm about this, Roman?"

"Oh, I'm nervous, too. I'm just handling it all on the inside."

"That's not healthy."

"I'm trying to be rational about it. Not emotional. And I'm in no way judging you for _getting_ emotional. You have the right. I just…I don't know. Those two times we've talked helped me understand that things could be different now. I have hope."

"It's Christmas, huh? Season of hope. Season of miracles."

"Season of forgiveness," Roman said softly, hoping he didn't distress Dean with the suggestion.

But Dean nodded. "Season of forgiveness…" he echoed, almost to himself.

He wrestled with the seatbelt, freeing himself from its secure hold. Then he pushed out of the car and shuffled across the street, making it only halfway before stopping to wait for Roman. Roman killed the engine and stepped outside. Humid cold was a very unpleasant sensation. He and Dean darted across the road and moved up the concrete steps leading to the front door. Roman's knees were weak, rickety, and he knew Dean's were as well. This was it.

This was huge.

"Do the honors?" Dean asked, breath leaving his mouth in a thin cloud. Roman nodded, and he jammed his finger into the doorbell.

High-pitched yapping sounded after the chime of the bell. The bark of a Yorkshire Terrier.

It was a long wait.

Long because Seth was injured, of course. Roman predicted he was upstairs, maybe still in bed, wondering who the hell was knocking on his door this early in the morning. And long because the anticipation was an abusive bitch.

Dean's hands were shaking. Not just from the cold, Roman figured. He reached over and secured Dean's hand in his own. The trembling didn't cease completely, but Roman's touch stifled it quite a bit.

Footsteps sounded behind the door. "Hush, Kevin. Quiet. Hey, get down from there. Relax. _Relax_."

His voice.

Roman's heart was on the verge of self-destruction.

He and Dean traded one last look before the door pulled open.

Seth Rollins grunted, heaving the door open. It was tricky with one arm holding a tiny puppy and one leg unable to support him completely.

He froze in place with the air outside, lips parting, glasses-screened eyes studying the presence of his former Shield teammates. His brothers.

The eyes blinked. Like he was wondering if they were a figment of his imagination and they'd disappear if he looked away.

Kevin the Yorkie squirmed out of his loosened grip and ran in circles around his feet, barking.

As cold as the air was, Roman felt warm. As biting the breeze was, his entire figure had gone rigid and still with Seth's. Too quiet. Too still.

Roman was the first to speak. "Hey, little brother."

Seth's lip trembled, which he impeded by pressing them together tight. He took a wobbly step forward, muscled arms wide open. They enclosed Roman in a tight yet tender hug. Roman held him back, crushing his little brother in a grasp like never before. Seth sniffed in his shoulder, and Roman could feel the material wetting by helpless tears.

"Hey, Roman," he croaked, voice already broken.

Roman pressed a hand on the small of Seth's back. "Miss me?"

"Of course I did, holy hell…this is…what a surprise this is…oh my God."

Roman had to let Seth go for now. They weren't the only two standing on this porch.

Dean and Seth stared at each other. Roman wouldn't call the look _longing_ , but there was tension and there was pain…and there was love.

He couldn't tell who gave in first. Seth and Dean both rushed at each other, arms open wide. Securing himself on his good leg, Seth cried into Dean's shoulder next, rocking with him, crushing him in a hold. Dean wasn't fighting tears, either. But he was smiling, smiling bigger than Roman had ever seen before.

"Fuck, Ambrose, it's so good to see you," Seth said, sniffing again. He drew out of the hug, then slapped Dean's Intercontinental Championship with the back of his hand. Of course the boys had brought their titles along for this. Seth deserved to see them as champions, with proof intact. "My boy, Ambrose…Intercontinental Champion, baby. That's what's up."

"Hell yeah," Dean said. He was tired from the reunion already. Tired, overwhelmed, deliriously happy.

Seth moved his look back to Roman. In particular, the championship belt— _his_ former championship belt—on Roman's shoulder. "Hey, beautiful. I've missed you." He reached out as though to lift the belt off Roman's shoulder. Roman caught his hand in the air.

"Uh-uh. You ain't getting it back from me like this."

"But I _am_ getting it back from you _somehow_ ," Seth said, grinning.

"Let's not focus on that right now. Can we come in? I'm freezing my ass off out here."

"Yeah, of course. Come in. Sorry if it's messy. I really wasn't expecting anyone to come by."

Dean and Roman trailed a limping Seth through the spacious foyer into a polished living room warmed by a crackling fireplace. Since the fire was active, Roman was relieved to think they hadn't woken Seth up with their surprise arrival. Kevin had calmed a bit since Roman and Dean roused him by ringing the bell. He hopped up on one of the couches, spun in circles, then laid down in a fluffy ball.

"Let me make you guys some coffee. Or hot chocolate. Seems like the right day for it."

"You need help, man?" Roman asked, noting Seth's sluggardly steps towards the kitchen.

"Nah, I'm getting more and more used to it. I need to keep it up if I wanna get my strength back."

"You're sure?"

"I insist. Thanks though."

Roman would be there anyway. Just in case Seth needed him. He and Dean moved into the kitchen behind Seth. Christmas music was pulsing from his phone, plugged into a speaker to accentuate the sound.

Roman felt so sorry for him. Big house, injured superstar. All alone at Christmastime. At least he had Kevin—and now, Roman and Dean.

"So Owens still won't leave you alone, huh, Dean?" Seth asked. He freed three mugs from a cabinet, then set them aside and tore open three packets of hot chocolate powder.

"Nope. But it's whatever. He can throw a fit all he wants. He's not getting this title back. It's all mine, and I have no intention of ever losing it."

"That's great. Good to know your head hadn't thinned much since I was around."

"Shut up." Dean laughed.

"I was telling Roman a little while ago, his thick head gets him through as much crap as it gets him into. It's a gift in this company. Sometimes you just need to be relentless." Seth squatted down halfway to fetch a saucepan from a lower cabinet. His face contorted, eyes clenching shut in obvious pain. Roman couldn't stand by and watch him flounder any longer. He grabbed Seth under the arms and lifted him to his good leg.

"I've got it," Seth asserted.

"I wonder where we get that thickheadedness from, Dean?" Roman asked. Dean giggled.

Seth rolled his eyes. "Surely not from me."

"Yeah. Surely."

"Just let us help you," Dean said.

"Fine."

Roman gathered the ingredients necessary for Seth's hot chocolate. Seth whisked the right amount of cocoa powder, sugar, and salt. Dean measured out the water and added it to the concoction, then Seth continued stirring. "Thanks," he said softly, like he was embarrassed to be thankful for help.

"This is, like, old-fashioned hot chocolate," Dean said. "Almost from scratch. Did you make this cocoa powder yourself out back?"

"I can cook, but I'm not a wizard," Seth laughed.

Seth brought the mixture to a boil in the pan. Dean wandered away from his side, tugging on the pantry door. He found was he was looking for on the second shelf. "Good. You have mini-marshmallows."

Seth made a face. "What's hot chocolate without marshmallows?"

"Like pizza without pepperoni. Good, but it could be a lot better."

"Or the WWE without Rollins," Roman said.

"Wow. Way to make it all sappy in here, Roman."

But Seth was looking over at him, smiling. Roman smiled back. God, had he missed Seth Rollins.

Dean feasted on a handful of marshmallows. Roman had to take the bag away from him, to preserve some for the actual drinks. Seth added milk after a little while. This was the final step. He stirred to blend the milk with the brew, and it was finished.

Roman helped hold the cups steady as Seth filled each one with the sweet, hot drink. "Don't burn your tongue, alright? It's still hot."

"Why do I feel like you're still talking to me specifically?" Dean asked.

"Because I am."

Roman laughed. Dean scoffed. "Yeah, that does sound like something I'd do."

Dean loaded his cup with mini-marshmallows and handed off the bag to Roman. He helped himself to some, then allowed Seth to have the rest. He stayed by Seth's side on the walk—trudge—back to the living room. It pained Roman to see Seth moving like this. So hurt. So restricted in everything he did now. Seth Rollins wasn't used to that kind of lifestyle. It must have been aggravating. Roman couldn't even imagine.

Seth occupied an armchair while Roman and Dean sat on the long couch by the fire, beside the sleeping puppy.

It was quiet. The Christmas music was nearly inaudible from in here. Seth sipped his hot chocolate. His eyes were on the squishy carpet beneath his feet. He was dressed like he hadn't been out of the house in days: pajama pants, a CrossFit t-shirt, house shoes. Quiet. Too quiet, again.

Reality was setting in.

Making hot chocolate had been a tender moment. Now actuality wanted a turn in the day.

Everything that was happening…was really happening. The past hurt. The present sucked. But Roman had found a way to alleviate some of the pain. Some.

"I still can't believe you guys came all this way," Seth spoke. "My mind is blown. Seriously."

"We were in the neighborhood," Dean said. "Er, the city, I guess…the state, anyway. Smackdown's in Des Moines tonight."

"I know. I was looking forward to seeing you guys in the program. I didn't think I'd actually be _seeing_ you."

"Are you happy to see us?" Roman asked. He knew the answer, or he thought he did, but he wanted to hear it.

"I couldn't be happier."

His balloon of anxiety popped. His insides swelled with relief instead.

"Think I speak for Roman when I say, we're happy, too," Dean said.

 _I told you it'd be easier. I told you you'd be happy_. Roman was delighted to be right.

"I was nervous about it. Didn't think you'd want much to do with us, in reality." He picked a marshmallow out of his cup and dropped it onto his tongue. So far he'd done a good job not burning himself.

Seth looked touched. "I'm sorry you were worried about it. If I'd known, I would have told you…" He licked his lips, touching the cup to his mouth. "Shit, I probably would have been nervous, too. I wouldn't have known how to react. I'm kind of glad you guys surprised me. That way I had no choice but to accept it. And yeah, here and now, I'm happy. This feels…nice. Feels good. Feels really…right."

"It does. And it should. We're family, Seth," Roman said. "It doesn't just go away, right, Dean?"

"No," Dean agreed to his own words just a little while ago. "I might have wanted to kill you for what you did to us last year…but sitting here now, drinking hot chocolate with you, three days till Christmas…right _now_ , it feels like nothing's changed."

"But things have." Seth gazed at him with sad eyes behind his glasses. "Dean. Roman. Guys. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for what I did. I know I told this to Roman already, Ambrose, but now you need to hear it. I was an ass. I messed up. There was no good reason to betray the two of you…I wasn't aware back then that a championship wasn't worth the value of my brothers."

Dean had no words. He sipped his hot chocolate.

Kevin awoke, yawned, and lazily trotted into Roman's lap. Roman rubbed his furry belly.

"I was stupid, I was an idiot, I was selfish, and yeah, I was a weasel. But you've gotta know something, both of you. It's not who I am. I was willing to do whatever it takes, but I'm not that guy. Especially looking back on it now…I don't even know _who_ that was. The guy who beat both of you down with a steel chair. Who cashed in on Roman at WrestleMania. Who beat Dean twice in a month for the same title on your shoulder now, Roman—"

"Stop," Dean demanded. His voice was husky. The glow of the fire lit his troubled face.

"I'm sorry. But know it, guys. Know it. Believe it. Please. I'm sorry."

"I believe it," Roman said, voice hardly a whisper. He had for a while. He knew this was mostly for Dean's benefit.

"And Dean…I'm not asking you to forgive me, alright? I'm not expecting it at all. I don't know if I ever should. I know you're a great guy, but you were hurt. I hurt you. I understand what I did. And it's not even going to bother me if you choose not to forgive me."

Roman didn't believe that part. Part of him felt that part of _Seth_ would always be determined to make up for the past, patch up holes he'd torn in Roman and Dean both. Why else had he called Roman up after Survivor Series? Seth Rollins was more truthful now that he'd ever been.

But it was Dean's heart, not Roman's. Dean had to decide for himself what to do.

They listened to the fire crackle for several minutes. Kevin's gentle snoring.

"I'm not going to say I forgive you, Rollins, because it's Christmastime and 'tis the season and all that crap." Dean interrupted himself with a long drink of his hot chocolate. He set the empty cup on the side table, then wiped his lips clean with his thumb. "I'm not going to say I forgive you because I see you limping, I see you in pain, and it breaks my heart and I feel so sorry for you. Nor because I am so happy, you have no idea, _so_ happy to see you, and how much I missed you. No, when I say I forgive you, it will be because I really, truly do. No emotional compromise. No warm and fluffy feelings to encourage me or guide my words. When I say I forgive you, Seth, you'll _know_ it's true. You'll _know_ I do. From my heart."

Seth leaned back in the chair. His messy hair fell in coils over his weary face. "I understand. I do. It means a lot just to hear you say, I might hear it someday."

"Not might. You will. When it's time."

"Absolutely."

And it was quiet again.

But the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It wasn't awkward or edgy or tense. In the moment, it was Christmastime and it was wonderful. The boys were brothers again. Together again. Seth was far more relaxed. Dean seemed a little better after his spiel. Roman was just glad the two weren't hurling each other through the coffee table and into the fireplace.

Frank Sinatra's "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" played softly from the kitchen.

Peace. There was peace.

Roman was unfamiliar with such a term in this life, but was he liking it a lot.

It physically ached for him to say what he had to say next. "We better go, Dean. We've got to get to the arena…get ready for tonight."

Dean nodded. He lifted to his feet, grabbing his cup. "Let's do him one last favor and get these dishes cleared, huh?"

"Of course." It was a great idea.

"It's not necessary—" Seth tried, but Roman and Dean were already in the kitchen. They rinsed off the cups and the utensils used to prepare the best hot chocolate Roman had ever had, then dispensed everything in the dishwasher. Dean added the soap, and Roman started up a cycle.

"Damn, I missed you guys," Seth told them from the kitchen doorway.

"Focus less on missing us and more on getting that knee rested, okay?" Roman asked. "Then you can get your ass back to wrestling and fight me for this title."

It made Seth smile. "Bring it."

"I didn't say you were gonna _win_. I said you could _fight_ me for it."

"Still bring it. I'll raze you, Reigns."

"We'll see."

"Yeah, we'll see," Seth echoed.

He walked—limped—them to the door. "I can't thank you enough for dropping by, Roman…Dean…this was honestly the best present I could have gotten this year. Any year. Thank you. Thank you for not forgetting about me."

"Never," Roman promised him. He opened his arms for a hug. Seth fell into him. He held Seth for a little while, then allowed Dean to have a goodbye embrace. Their hug seemed tighter, somehow. The way those two could hold each other couldn't compare to anything in the world. Dean still had a place in his heart for Seth, a soft spot. Seth clearly had one for Dean, and Roman as well.

"Watch for us on Smackdown," Dean said, deflecting from the apparent pain of leaving him. "I've got a match, and I'll blow a kiss to the camera just for you."

"I'll catch it."

He pulled the door open, ushering in a late morning icy draft. "And be careful out there, okay? Don't crash the car. Don't freeze to death. The company sucks enough without me, let alone its Intercontinental Champion and the new World Heavyweight Champion."

"I'll look out for him," Dean said, tapping Roman's shoulder with a fist.

"Ditto," Roman said.

"Bye, Dean…bye, Roman…thanks again."

"Merry Christmas, little brother."

Roman and Dean lingered on the porch until Seth closed the door and locked it up again.

Dean leaned against Roman in the cold. He was in no hurry to get to the car. "I missed him," Dean whispered.

"I did, too."

"But we get him back, right? We do?"

"He'll come back. If that's what you mean."

" _I_ want him back. For us."

"Dean, the future's uncertain in this business. Do I want him back with us as a team again? A Shield reunion? Of course. But let's hold onto hope and see what happens. Okay?"

"Alright. Till then, let's go kick the crap out of Sheamus and Owens and them." Dean dipped his hand into Roman's. "And thanks for talking me into this. I was scared, but I'm glad we came."

"You're welcome. I'm glad we did, too."

Seth Rollins was a wonderful gift to Roman and Dean both.

And not just for the holiday.

Every day. Year round.


End file.
